


He who survives

by JauntyHako



Series: Robot, Zombie, Time Traveler [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Danse swallowed a self-help guide, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture, poor Hancock is going through some shit, unhealthy suppression of traumatic experiences, with a heavy dose of hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hancock mentions off-handedly that he's been tortured, the Sole Survivor and Danse are shocked and want to help. Hancock insists that he doesn't need any help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He who survives

**Author's Note:**

> See, I'm totally capable of writing stuff without X6 in it. Here I am, emerging from rare fav hell. Well, anyway, enjoy :)

It was clear that Hancock didn't think any of it.

“Hey, who hasn't been tortured from time to time?” he asked casually while Kent smiled nervously – as if at any second he'd be told to answer the question – and Andrew and Danse shared a look.

Andrew saw the paladin's shock, his immediate worry reflected in him. It reassured him somewhat, that this was as unusual for the wasteland-born (well, mostly) Danse, and not an overreaction on his part, par his pre-war sensibilities. Only Kent's still shaking shoulders and his wide eyes reminded Andrew that interrogating Hancock about his remark had to wait.

Doing his best impression of the Silver Shroud seemed to cheer Kent up to the point where he even managed a more honest smile.

“I'll … I'll be down at the Memory Den. Maybe visit me some time?” he asked and, after Andrew promised he would, went down, accompanied by Fahrenheit to make sure he got home safely and in one piece.

The moment they heard the door downstairs shut close they turned in unison towards Hancock. He threw up his hands in mock defense, chuckling.

“Hey, what did I do?” he asked.

“What the hell are you keeping from us, sold- Hancock?” Danse demanded, correcting himself at the last second.

On occasion it could be amusing to watch Hancock put on airs about his annoyance at being called soldier, insisting he wasn't one and Danse wasn't either. Although this, too, was rooted in his deep insecurities and abandonment fears. He didn't like to be reminded that Danse had been Brotherhood, and used to hate ghouls. Even after almost a year with Hancock Andrew still got surprised just how many issues he had. And now he could apparently add having been tortured to the list.

“What Danse means to say”, Andrew added with slight reproach. “Is that you never told us you'd been tortured.”

Being someone who wore his heart on his sleeve it was fairly easy to read Hancock's mood. Right now he tried to find a way to weasel himself out of this conversation. He'd never been good with the deep soul-searching stuff when it involved him.

“That? Like I said, happens to everybody. No big deal.”

“On the contrary. Your well-being, physically as well as emotionally, is our top-priority. Information like this can only help us respond to your needs adequately.”

“I _am_ well. Nothing wrong at all, see?” Hancock said and patted himself down with exaggerated motions. His voice, too, had risen several levels in volume.

“We're just worried about you.” Andrew said softly, trying to place a hand on Hancock's shoulder and letting it sink dejected when he shrugged it off.

“Come on now. Five minutes ago everything was fine. What'cha gonna do about it now, anyway? It's been years. Not like you can dab at my forehead and sing me lullabies or whatever.”

“Actually, I can do that. And I will, if it will help.”  
“I don't _need_ help. Should have kept my mouth shut.” Hancock muttered to himself, then a bit louder: “Can't we just go back to the fucking and dining? In whatever order?”

Danse made to argue but Andrew shook his head at him. If Hancock didn't want to talk, they shouldn't force him. Danse doubted his decision, that much was clear from his face, but he accepted it.

“Very well. I, uh, believe I promised to make you a Capital speciality?” he said, awkwardly but successfully changing the subject. While he went to clean Hancock's little kitchen of drug paraphernalia, Andrew walked up behind the ghoul and drew him in an embrace. This time Hancock let the touch happen and even sank into it.

“That's more like it.” he mumbled happily while Andrew peppered his neck with kisses.

“Don't blame us for being worried. It comes with being madly in love with you.” Andrew said, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

“I know my charms are irresistible. Just keep the mother-henning down.”  
“Hmm, no promises.” Andrew said and scooped Hancock up in his arms who reacted with a yelp and a laugh, clinging onto his hat as Andrew carried him over to the sofa. The mood lightened and soon Andrew could tell himself with reasonable certainty that he could live with Hancock keeping a few secrets to himself. He had been right, after all. What happened had been years ago. No need to scratch at old wounds. He made a silent promise to himself not to prod any further.

 

That resolution went straight out of the window the same night, when his pip-boy supplied that at half past four in the morning Hancock was not in bed with them. Danse still slept soundly on the edge of the bed and Andrew was squeezed against the wall, leaving a cold empty Hancock-shaped space. It must have been his absence that woke him, the sudden lack of warmth and flailing limbs. He'd always been an agitated sleeper, dreaming lucidly while riding one high or another. He'd gotten used to that, as well as Danse's snoring when he lay on his back. So much in fact that not having his nose hit by an errand elbow at least twice a night made him restless.  
Carefully as not to jar Danse he sat up, listening with one ear for soft footsteps that would tell him Hancock had just gone out for a leak. Instead of footsteps he heard sobs.

His heart sank into his gut as he shook Danse awake, placing a finger to his lips to keep him quiet. Danse, bless his training, stilled immediately and looked and listened into the dark until he too heard it. He frowned.

“Why didn't he wake us?” he asked and swung his legs out of bed. Andrew shrugged and followed him, goosebumps spreading over his bare legs. They didn't make a special effort to be silent but when they found Hancock in the main room he had his back still turned to them. He was rummaging around his kitchen, cursing to himself all while he was wracked with shudders. Every few seconds he'd wipe at his face with the sleeve of his coat, stifling a whimper in the back of his throat. Glass clinked against glass as he filled a syringe. It was Danse who was pulled into action first. He crossed the room and came to a halt next to Hancock, gently and without a word winding the syringe out of his shaking hands. Hancock looked up at him, not even surprised, but silently begging him to give the drug back. Tears streaked down his cheeks. Danse put it aside and enveloped Hancock in a bear hug.

“Using pharmaceuticals to dull emotional pain is a sure way to get yourself addicted.” he chided without any heat. Hancock made a sound that might have been a scoff. His hands clung to Danse's night shirt and when Andrew closed in on them he heard him crying.

“It's all right. We're here.” he whispered, snaking his arms around his waist and kissing his nape.

“This is all your fault.” Hancock said. “You just couldn't leave well enough alone, you had to prod and prod and prod.”  
“We didn't …” Danse started. Hancock didn't let him speak.

“First nightmare I had in years and you have the nerve to tell me I shouldn't take something to help me sleep?”

“If you need help falling asleep, there are non-addictive alternatives, that-”  
“Forget it.” Hancock said, pulling free of their embrace and bringing some distance between them. Andrew couldn't help but feel that it wasn't just a physical distance either. He never thought to see the day when Hancock refused body contact with either of them.

“I'm going back to bed.” he said indignant and made to leave. Danse was faster. He blocked his way and caught his wrists when Hancock made to push him aside.

“We need to talk this out.” he insisted, letting go of Hancock immediately but not budging from the entrance.

“The hell we do.”  
“Hancock, he's right. It's obvious you're shaken up about this whole thing.”  
“Leave me alone.”  
He made another attempt to physically remove Danse from the door, this one failing just like the last. In the end he stood in front of the man, looking small in only his coat, hands clenched to fists at his sides.

“What the fuck do you want from me? Isn't this enough?”

“We don't want to hurt you.” Andrew protested.

Hancock turned around on his heels, glaring at Andrew with enough venom to kill.

“From where I'm standing that ain't what it looks like.”  
Andrew's face fell and when Hancock brushed past Danse neither tried to stop him. They were left on their own, only the rapidly fading sounds of hurried footsteps down the hallway an account that Hancock had been there at all.

Andrew broke the silence first.  
“We didn't hurt him. Did we?”

Danse shook his head. But he didn't look too convinced.

“We are merely trying to help. Traumatic experiences must be dealt with in a healthy manner. It is evident that this has not happened.”  
“Yeah.” Andrew made, staring off into the distance where Hancock had disappeared. “Let's just … let's just go back to bed, okay? If he doesn't want to talk, we can't make him.”

When they returned to their shared bedroom, they found Hancock pressed to the far end of the bed, his back turned to them, blankets drawn up to his chin. His hands moved in an odd fashion and for one ridiculous second Andrew thought he was masturbating. A closer look revealed that he was rubbing his hands as if massaging in oil. He crawled into bed behind Hancock and felt him tense. Andrew swallowed hard, trying to convince himself that Hancock was just agitated and it had nothing to do with his love for him.

Danse spooned him from behind and stretched out his to rest them on Hancock's hip. He pulled away as if cut when Hancock flinched away. His arm hung awkwardly in the air, hovering over Hancock and then retreating. Through it all Hancock hadn't once stopped doing whatever he did with his hands. It was like he tried to crush ants running inside his veins.

“You can trust us.” Andrew said. “You know that, right?”

He hadn't seriously expected an answer, thought they were in for the silent treatment, and was all the more surprised when he got a curt nod.

“Then why won't you talk to us?”

“I don't need to talk.” Hancock said between clenched teeth. He rubbed his hands more insistently. “I'm fine. I just need to forget about it again.”

“If you repress the memory, it will surface again.” Danse said. “And next time we may not be there to assist you in the healing process.”

“You threatenin' to break up with me?” Hancock asked.

“What? No. No, god no. Hancock, love, we'd never do that.” Andrew took his shoulder and gently nudged him to face them. Hancock went with the motion, although he was still scowling at them.

“We love you. And we want to help. But we can't do that if you don't let us.”

“Talking helps.” Danse added. “But it is often also painful. We are prepared to do whatever you need, without requiring further explanation.”

“What he said.” Andrew said. “Maybe get some lotion for that?”

Hancock looked down at his hands as if he hadn't been aware of what he'd been doing until now. He let them sink, suddenly self-conscious, but he nodded at Andrew's suggestion.

The way to his pack appeared endlessly long. He feared at any moment Hancock might close up again, change his mind and demand they never speak of this again. On his way back he almost tripped over their boots, could only so catch himself at the edge of the bed, before crawling back in, nudging Hancock to move into the center. He squirted some lotion into his palm and spread it around a bit before taking Hancock's hands in his and gently began to massage it in. At the first tentative touch he pulled back, eyes wide and lips trembling. Andrew had to force himself to keep his grip loose, to allow him to set his own boundaries. His patience was rewarded. Hancock placed his hand back between Andrew's and allowed him to continue.

There wasn't any superficial injury visible, but that didn't have to mean anything. Broken bones wouldn't leave traces and if it happened before he turned ghoul his skin would have changed too much to see scars regardless. Applying as much pressure as he dared, Andrew rubbed circles across his palm and dragged his fingers between Hancock's, who shuddered.

“Should I stop?”

“No. Feels nice.” Hancock said. He did seem more relaxed than just minutes before, even if he still watched every one of Andrew's moves like a hawk.

It took almost half an hour, during which Andrew switched back and forth between his left and right hand that Hancock finally relaxed completely and even rested his head against Danse's chest.

“You still wanna know?” he asked and to anyone who didn't know him as well as they did, it would have sounded casual.  
“If you want to talk, we will listen.” Danse said carefully. Hancock chuckled.

“You're rich. First you practically try and force me to spill my guts and now you play coy. Figures. You wanna know or not?”

“We do.” Andrew said.

Hancock closed his eyes to avoid having to look at either of them.

“My brother found my latest chem stash.” he started. “Burned the whole damn thing. Hundreds of caps, just going off in smoke. First thing I did after getting a dressing-down was sneak off to Goodneighbor to get more. Still had allowance over from that month so there I was, haggling with Marowski senior for a decent price. Suddenly one of his goons storms in, keeps spouting that they've been ripped off and some idiot disappeared with a wagonload of chems.

Marowski's all friendly and polite, right, asking me if I happen to know anything. I said no, what the fuck, why would I? He says, John, you know all the drifters in town. They talk to you. Sure you haven't heard anything, even a rumour? But I didn't, so that's what I tell him and he just goes, alright, thank you for your help, here are your chems, I even cut you a good deal. Should have known right then that something was up, but idiot that I was I just took the chems and hightailed it. Went straight upstairs to get good and decent high before going back home.”  
“How old were you then?” Danse asked. Hancock shrugged.

“I don't know. Sixteen, seventeen maybe? Didn't know my arse from a shitstorm, that's for sure. Anyway, I must have passed out or something, because next thing I know it's dark out and someone is banging on the door. I had no idea what was going on but the noise made for a decent headache so I shouted at them to keep it down or else. Shouldn't have said that. Marowski's thugs are kicking down the door and they must have been on Jet, because I'd never seen anyone move that fast. They grabbed me, cuffed my hands together and made me sit in that crickety chair.

And in comes Marowski himself, all dressed up in his suit and hat and he says, John, he says, you disappoint me. So naturally I give him lip, right, about that being my job, disappointing everyone and he just shakes his head like my brother used to when I pissed him off and asks me about that drifter again, that ran off with his chems. I told him, I didn't know anything but he wouldn't believe me. Starts threatening to tell my brother where I get my stuff, but hell I thought what if he does, I can always find another dealer.

Right then one of his goons brings in a bucket full of water. At first I thought it was acid or some shit but it was just plain old dirty water. I make jokes, tell him the bucket's too small to fit my head in and that he should find something bigger if he wants to drown me. Marowski found that real funny, too. He kept repeating his questions, where's that drifter, what did he plan, who helped him. So now they take my hands, still cuffed and shit, and dunk them into the water. Lamest torture ever, right? Only that they build up this little gizmo under the bucket, make it stand on a tripod and light a fire underneath. I still wasn't convinced they weren't just trying to make me piss myself. That changed real quick, though. I could feel the water getting warmer and I _did_ piss myself then but only because no one put out the damn fire and it's almost singing my trousers and the water's getting real hot.

And Marowski just keeps asking his stupid questions, always the same damn question and I didn't know, alright? I didn't fucking know a thing. Who tells a kid like me anything? If they had they'd be damn stupid because I would have spilled everything. I try to kick over the bucket but his goons tied my legs to the chair and held down my shoulders so all I could do is watch the bubbles starting to form and it's getting uncomfortable, like mighty fucking uncomfortable, you feel me? So I tell Marowski that I don't know anything but I'll ask around, do some recon for him, free of charge. Only he didn't wanna hear it, he thinks I know something.”

Hancock switched between tenses, his eyes opening again and darting around as if he expected Marowski to come around the corner with a bucket of water.

“I don't need to tell you what happens next, pretty sure you figured that out for yourselves by now. But damn, you don't know the half of it. At some point you can't even tell anymore if it's really hot or really cold, only that I could see the water bubbling and the steam was fogging my glasses and no matter how much I struggle it's like I don't even try, they keep holding my hands underwater while Marowski interrogates me. Sure don't know what he expected to hear, except screaming, cause that's all that I did. Just screamed my damn lungs out and begged him to stop. Cried like a little baby and all those tears drop right into the boiling water. I was a pathetic little worm.”

“You were barely more than a child.” Danse said but Hancock shook his head.

“Plenty of other drifters my age who were way more hardcore. I was a pampered nerd out of Diamond City and Marowski knew it. When he finally had enough he just left with his goons in tow, left me there still tied to the chair. Somehow I managed to kick over the bucket and put out the fire but it was hours before anyone found me.

You should have seen my hands. Looked like raw steak, almost worse than they're now. Worst thing was getting rid of the shackles. They had to saw 'em off in the end because the lock was fucked up. For weeks I ran around with my hands bandaged up, could barely wipe my own ass.”  
He paused, shook his head.

“So that's what happened. Now you know. And don't give me crap about being sorry. Got tired of hearing that after the first day.”

Neither Danse nor Andrew knew what to say. They spared him the platitudes but there was really nothing to add to a story like that. Andrew was glad he had something to occupy himself with by continuing his massage. He made sure to be even gentler now, wondering if the physical scars that ordeal undoubtedly left behind had been a factor in Hancock's decision to take the radiation drug. Burn wounds like that would have left him to deal with chronic pain.

“Do you still feel it?” he asked.

“Sometimes.” Hancock said. “When I'm upset or the weather's shit. Daisy told me it's all in my head, because turning ghoul pretty much got rid of the scars. And most of my skin. And before you ask, no they're not hurting right now. They did, but your magic fingers took care of that.”

“Anytime.” Andrew said and pulled his hands up to kiss every single knuckle. He was rewarded with a breathless sigh. “I mean it. They ever so much as itch, you come to me, alright?”  
“Yeah, sure.” Hancock said, lying through his teeth. He'd sooner put them back into boiling water before asking for help. Andrew would just have to watch the signs carefully. That was something he'd gotten a lot of practice with, being in a relationship with two stubborn men who had trouble reaching out for support. He let the matter rest for now, especially as Hancock yawned and snuggled deeper into Danse's arms.

“How about we catch some shut-eye now?” he asked and hummed pleased when Danse settled down with him and kissed his forehead. He ended up in his usual position in the middle, while Andrew made himself comfortable against the wall again, one hand still lightly grasping Hancock's. While he slowly drifted off he could hear Danse and Hancock talking quietly to each other.

“You were not weak to have cried during the torture.”  
“What the hell are you talking about?”  
“You expressed a somewhat less than complimentary opinion of yourself while you told us of the events.”  
“Huh. The pathetic worm bit?”  
“Yes. You're not pathetic. I have seen older men, hardened by battle, break under such treatment. You are remarkably strong to have endured it so well.”  
“I didn't. Only reason I didn't tell Marowski everything was because I didn't know.”

“Anyone else would have acted the same. But where other men would have broken, you carried on.”

Hancock didn't answer verbally but Andrew felt him shift and choke back a sob.

“I want you to know that there is nothing weak about you. The Brotherhood would have counted itself lucky to have someone half as resilient as you in their ranks.”

“Flatterer.” Hancock said and sniffed, trying to brush it off with a joke.

“I know what it's like to feel this way. You are ashamed of yourself, when in truth you should be proud of your strength. I know I am.”

This time Hancock didn't joke. He didn't say anything, but cried into Danse's chest, shoulders shaking madly. Andrew shuffled closer, willing to stay with him until he worked through it. It still pained him to hear him cry, but these tears were necessary and would, with some time, help him heal. He was just glad that in the end Hancock had trusted them enough to let himself break apart and put himself back together, slowly, piece by piece.

Clutching his hand tighter and keeping him in their embrace, Andrew and Danse kept him company while he shook through his much needed breakdown.

 

 

 


End file.
